


The Macrolepidoptera

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Canon, Child Abuse, Drama, Episode Related, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-09
Updated: 2004-10-09
Packaged: 2018-12-27 14:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12083310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian's thoughts about moths after the Rage party.





	The Macrolepidoptera

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Brian sighed angstily as he gazed off into empty space. Well it wasn't empty so much as Justin-less, but same difference, of course. The space was actually packed with hundreds of sweaty, dancing men, but Brian barely registered this. All he could see was ... a moth.

The moth was quite small, and pale brown in colour. Brian wondered, listlessly, what it was doing in Babylon. Did moths like dancing? No, they liked light. Were attracted to light. He supposed if Justin had been here, the moth would have made a bee-line - no wait, would that be a moth-line? Brian shrugged mentally, and continued his thought - to Justin. And not because of his shiny blond hair, either.

Justin just radiated light like that. Brian often suspected that Justin hid little flashlights all over his body. It seemed the sort of boy-scouty-yet-queeny thing he would do. Brian sighed heavily, wondering if moths were attracted to flashlights, or just porchlights. He had often seen them fluttering around the porchlight when he was a boy - when Jack hadn't broken it in one of his drunken rages that is.

You see, when Jack was very drunk, he often found it hard to tell the difference between Brian and the porchlight. It had been this that finally clued Brian in to the fact that he was gay - his flame burned brightly, indeed, though not brightly enough for moths to be attracted to him. Brian heaved another gusty sigh at that. He had often felt almost hurt or left out as he watched those moths zoom around that porchlight. After all, he was almost a moth himself, wasn't he? And as he couldn't fly to his brother-and-sister moths, it only followed that *they* should fly to *him*.

He looked back at the little moth for a second, then turned back to his solitary, pain-filled thoughts. Brian blushed a little as he retraced them (Brian did, contrary to popular opinion, blush. He did so often, in fact. At the age of seventeen, though, he had learned of a miraculous foundation powder that preserved skin from wrinkles and prevented people from realising you were blushing. He had often pondered the question of whether he should give some to Justin, but didn't, as he found it disturbingly hot whenever he managed to make Justin blush) because he realised to an outsider who might be listening in on his thoughts, it would doubtless seem strange for him to be calling himself a moth.

Brian took comfort in the fact that it was unlikely that an outsider could be listening in on his thoughts. Now that Justin had gone - left with that scarlet man, Ian Pyrite - there was nobody left who could read his mind. Brian tried to draw comfort from that fact, but unfortunately, it was Justin who had most of the artistic talent in this particular OTP. However, Brian *was* talented at selling people on to bullshit, and he promptly took advantage of this fact by making himself buy the idea that he was, indeed, comforted.

That taken care of, Brian returned to his moth-musings. He was truly a moth. A moth in a human body. Luckily it was a good-looking human body; he felt that he deserved that at the very least, as compensation for the cruel trick fate had played upon him. Also, he had a really big dick, which was also quite good in compensating. He did think that he should have gotten a really *nice* ass as well, like Justin's maybe, but as he had thought earlier, fate was cruel and spendthrift; it had stopped at the cock. Brian sighed yet again.

Um, as he was thinking. A moth. Right. A moth in a human body, that was him, all right. After all, was he not self-destructive? Was he not attracted to the bright, shining light that was more commonly known as Justin "Sunshine" Taylor? Did he not wish to go out in a blaze of glory, just like his fellow-moths? Oh yes. Brian A. Kinney was a moth. He wondered if there was a type of moth beginning with an "A".

Brian re-focused on the moth, which was now zipping about (well, zipping for a moth; a normal human would not have been able to tell the difference, but Brian A(fill in rest of moth-name) Kinney was no normal human. He was Mothman. Oh yes, that was he. He wondered if it was too late to get Justin and Michael to change the comic's name to "Moth-Fury", but realised that Justin and Michael were probably on the outs.

Brian almost sighed for the fifth time, but realised at the last nano-second that sighing probably wasn't a very mothly activity. His fellow-moths may not approve. Brian wanted, more than anything (except a billion dollars, an unlimited supply of condoms and lube, his own ad agency, and his very own porchlight - a.k.a Justin Sunshine Taylor) to be accepted and approved of by his fellow-moths.

Brian wondered whether he should continue dancing. Did moths like dancing? No, they liked light. Huh, why did that give him a sense of déja vû? Anyway. Moths were attracted to light, just like he was. Only, his one true porchlight, the only porchlight he could ever zoom around, into, and come out of in a blaze of glory, but still intact and alive, was gone. There was no light in his life anymore. His only sunshine had been taken away. 

_To hell - I mean - lamp - with it!_ thought Brian angrily. _Surely my fellow-moths would agree that I should be allowed this one last sigh, in the face of this tragedy._ Well, not in the face, really, as his problem was that the face was gone. Gone, forever, and never to be gotten back. Brian drew in a mighty breath, ready to sigh it out, but then.

It struck him.

It was like a halogen lamp being turned on before his eyes. Brian gasped, and almost bit his tongue as the light flicker-dawned on him.

He was Mothman the Almighty. WHAT CHANCE DID THAT SCARLET MAN, IAN, HAVE AGAINST HIM?

NONE.

Brian smiled smugly (but still mothishly). He could do this. He could do this with one wing tied behind his back. Mind made up, Brian gave his fellow-moth a little flutter of his fingers. He was Mothman the Almighty, and he was going to get his porchlight back.

* * *

Now, gentle readers and readeresses, I have a favour to beg of you. Please make your way over to my user info thing, where I have something **very shiny and important** to show you. Take but a second of your day to do this one small deed, and you will make me very happy. **Thank you.**


End file.
